Murder in Whitechapel (The Judas Reflections) (30 page)

“To take back what you’ve stolen,” the voice replied. It was softer and almost normal, erupting from the gurgling noise and sending an icy spray upon him. “And, kill the wicked seed once and for all!”

“I didn’t steal your bag of treasures, and I’ll happily give it back!” He clutched his bedspread tightly, and shrunk away from the eye, the smell, and the gurgling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right!”

“It’s too late to give it back,” replied the garbled voice, sending forth another spray of chilled droplets onto his face. David cringed in response and closed his eyes. “It’s too late to give back
my
life, Billy Ray-y-y-y!”

A splash of icy liquid against his throat and T-shirt emphasized the fervency of this last statement. Ever fearful, he opened his eyes. Another eye as grotesque as the first eye was lovely had since joined it. Its mutilated cornea and iris glowed as a ruptured mass of fire and blood within the torn edges of the socket.

“I’m
not
Billy Ray! My name’s
David!!”
he shouted.

“Ya are what ya are and always will be, Billy Ray-y-y-y!” the voice hissed in anger. “Y’all and yer seed have killed and taken whatever ya’ve pleased! But, no more!! There ain’t no more hidin’ from yer sins!!!”

“No, you’ve got the wrong guy! I’ve
never
done
anything
to you
—
”

“M-m-m-u-r-r-r-der-r-r-er-r-r!!”

He threw up his hands to protect himself as she shrieked her condemnation over and over, the echo resounding loudly throughout the room before returning to where he lay huddled against the headboard. Iciness gripped the base of his bed and steadily moved up toward him, chilling the bones in his feet, legs, and thighs as it touched him. Out of the darkness the two eyes suddenly looked up at him from his waist, revealing the entity now caressed his body like a famished lover, moving from his feet to his genitals and on up to his face. He whimpered in horror as something cold, wet and slimy crept inside his shirt toward his throat.

Screaming in terror, he slapped at himself, falling out of the bed. He grabbed the nightstand, pulling the top drawer out while groping for the lamp’s pole. A pair of frigid arms embraced him from behind, and even icier hands pinched his nipples. Coldness beyond anything he’d ever known flowed through him from behind, freezing his lungs to where he couldn’t breathe. He began to pass out. Turning on the light switch was the last thing he remembered.

David awoke lying on the floor between the two beds. The nightstand lamp was on, and his head throbbed worse than any migraine he could remember. He groggily stood up and moved over to the clock, which still faced his bed. It read 3:38 a.m.

After replacing the nightstand’s drawer in its slot, and checking to make sure the heater still worked, he set the thermostat and blower on high and went into the bathroom. He intended to splash water in his face and take something for his pounding headache. But, when he looked in the mirror, he could only stare at his reflection.

His face and T-shirt were covered with blood.

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ISBN: 978-1-62007-198-4 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-62007-199-1 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-62007-200-4 (hardcover)

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